


the thought that counts

by epiproctan



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Gift Giving, Humor, Implied/Referenced Sex, Love Confessions, M/M, Miscommunication, Problems with Future In-Laws, i guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-23
Updated: 2018-03-23
Packaged: 2019-04-06 22:29:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14066961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/epiproctan/pseuds/epiproctan
Summary: It’s hard to tell someone how you feel about them. It’s even harder when you decide to confess by giving them meaningful gifts from their latent extraterrestrial culture and as a result find yourself the target of their long-lost alien mother's anger.This is the story of how Shiro learns that the hard way.





	the thought that counts

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DracoSH](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DracoSH/gifts).



> bear with me a hot sec, i have a lot of people to thank  
> first, this fic goes out to dracs because she’s the one who showed me [this post](http://locketofyourhair.tumblr.com/post/171867432704/all-this-lotor-and-shiro-being-bros-makes-me), and then we had a convo on which this fic is based. dracs i’m sorry, you won’t enjoy this fic at all because there’s no angst but i hope it still makes you smile because you deserve it. good luck on your exams!!  
> second, a huge shoutout to han, my incredible and lovely beta, and traffy, who gave me some truly wonderful and appreciated feedback :)  
> third, i wouldn’t be writing today at all if it wasn’t for the gc. lots of hugs and kisses to you guys!!
> 
> anyway you know that thing drabbles do where you blink and suddenly they’re 5k?

“From the Black Paladin,” said Kolivan. “It came in with the supply shipment today.” 

The package was unassuming. It fit neatly where it was placed in Keith’s right palm. Kolivan hadn’t waited around long enough for Keith to even acknowledge it before he turned away from Keith’s doorway and headed back down the hallway. 

Now Keith sat on his narrow cot, turning the thing over and over in his hands. It was wrapped in some kind of waxy paper, garishly pink but unadorned, crinkled and smudged with oil in some places to brag of the journey it had been on. Keith was almost nervous to open it. Shiro had never sent him anything before. Even transmissions from him were rare. Logically Keith knew the little package had to have been screened to have even made it onto the Blade of Marmora base, but part of him feared that this was a trap, that somehow someone had slipped a bomb or a bioweapon into the supplies and signed it, “XOXO, Shiro.”

Why would Shiro be sending him something now?

“Well?” Keith’s mother said.

She was sitting against the wall, right where she always did in their downtime. Keith had learned quickly that, like himself, she was pragmatic and sparse in most conversation, but that didn’t mean she didn’t enjoy spending time in the company of her family. Her presence was a comfort on this Spartan base even if they only spoke in brief exchanges littered between the hours. Now, she had something to get at. She wanted to see what was inside, just as badly as Keith did. Just as badly as Keith  _ didn’t _ .

At her prodding Keith breathed in deep, and on his exhale he yanked at the seam of the paper.

A small, gray, porous stone came tumbling out from the midst of the wrapping, bounced off the edge of Keith’s cot, and landed on the floor to roll until it was directly between himself and his mother. It held no significance to Keith. It looked, from where he was sitting, like any old rock he could find on a hike on almost any planet. But as for his mother, he noticed, there was something about it that made her eyes go wide.

She looked from the rock to him with an aggressively questioning look in her eyes, as though she expected Keith to have some explanation for her. He did not. When she too came to that conclusion, she rose to her feet, her hands in fists.

“I’m going to have a word with this Black Paladin.” Her voice was low and venomous.  

“Mom?” Keith asked, bewildered. By the rock, by her words, by how she was storming towards the door like she was prepared for to face a fistfight on the other side.

Later, Keith learned that Kolivan had to physically restrain a hissing and kicking Krolia from entering the communications room. Keith still hadn’t managed to get an explanation for the stone, met instead with awkward laughter and one very puzzling, “You youngsters sure are wild, huh?” from everyone he asked, so he tucked it beneath his mattress to keep it from offending his mother anymore.

Sometimes at night, he reached under to rub his thumb over the stone’s surface. It was warm, and surprisingly smooth, and it fit nicely against his skin. Members of the Blade of Marmora were not supposed to own anything that they didn’t carry with them on their bodies, but Keith treasured it. It was a gift from Shiro, after all.

* * *

 

About a movement later, there was a box.

“Shiro?” Keith asked.

It was about the size of Keith’s fist, and made of some dark, lightweight wood.

Kolivan nodded in silent reply.

Keith had to wonder when Shiro had gotten the chance to send these things in the midst of his packed schedule, how long it took for packages to make their way from the Coalition’s central command on Olkarion out to this Blade of Marmora base, why Shiro never mentioned the mysterious mail during their brief strategy meetings and conference calls. But somehow, and for some reason, Kolivan was again standing in Keith’s doorway and handing over a package.

Krolia was already glaring when Keith had resettled himself on the bed, and she made to stand when he poised his hand over the lid of it.

By the time he had it open, she was spitting, “I’m leaving,” over her shoulder as she left the room.

Keith couldn’t possibly begin to correlate the two events. Whatever had angered his mother about a box full of fragrant pressed flower petals was completely beyond him. The petals were the deep burnt orange of a desert at sunset and had a sweet fragrance to them like vanilla and heavy spice, one that lingered in his room long after he’d shut the lid and stowed the box under his bed. His mother avoided his room for days, deterred by the scent alone.

It didn’t even smell that bad, Keith thought. Maybe Galra and humans had different olfactory systems, but to Keith it was comforting, and now it reminded him of Shiro. Sometimes in the snatches of time he caught between missions he opened the box just to remind himself that someone cared enough to send him something so beautiful.

* * *

 

Three movements later saw the end of an extended mission and a bone-weary Keith dragging himself to make a report to Kolivan in the main hall. There he found not only the Blade of Marmora leader, but also a small wooden crate at his feet, incongruous against its dark metallic surroundings.

“You should either dispose of these or eat them before they go bad,” was what Kolivan said instead of asking for a report. “And before this escalates any further, please give your…pursuer…some sort of response.”

Keith, who was not only eluded by the meaning of the this request but also baffled by how Kolivan’s frown was more pronounced than usual, knelt by the crate and tipped the top off. The inside was packed full of white fist-sized hard-skinned fruit that looked familiar enough to make Keith think he’d probably tasted them once or twice. He wasn’t particularly partial to them but he didn’t dislike them either, and figuring he wouldn’t waste food he hefted the crate into his arms.

“I expected better of him,” Kolivan went on, almost musingly, seemingly unaware of Keith’s confusion. Keith still had a million questions about the packages— _ gifts? _ —themselves, and the reactions they were getting weren’t helping. He trusted Shiro, because of course that was who this apparently unpleasant surprise had to be from. He trusted Shiro with his life, with the fate of the entire universe, but here was Kolivan talking like Shiro had sent Keith a basket full of illicit drugs.

Keith stopped and sniffed the fruit. They  _ weren’t _ drugs, right?

But Kolivan wasn’t even paying him any attention, instead continuing to ponder aloud. “I didn’t think the Black Paladin would be like this in his personal matters.”

Like  _ what _ .

Keith almost dropped the crate to round on Kolivan. He didn’t know what Kolivan was trying to imply but it didn’t sound complimentary, and Keith wasn’t about to let that slide. “What do you  _ mean _ ?”

If Kolivan was going to use this opportunity to educate Keith, he never got the chance. The door in the back of the room opened and Krolia appeared in the doorway. She looked from Kolivan to Keith to the fruit in his arms, and anger instantly flared in her eyes, her head jerking back like she’d been attacked. She spun on her heel.

“Krolia!” Kolivan barked after her.

Unheeding, she darted off down the corridor. Kolivan went for the chase, and Keith, alarmed, put the fruit down to follow.  

“Krolia!” Kolivan called again in the hallway. “Where are you going?”

He didn’t have to ask. It was immediately clear where she was going. They were making a clear path towards the ship hangar. It was where she was planning on going from there that was the true mystery.

“I won’t stand for this insult,” was the reply she shouted over her shoulder.

“Do not compromise our alliance over silly children’s drama!” Kolivan said.

Keith, who was still following physically if not mentally, arrived in the hangar just in time to see his mother disappear into a small fighter craft, the expression on her face saying that she planned to do  _ just that _ .

At that point there was nothing either of them could do to keep her from taking off, from gunning the engine and zipping out of the base. Kolivan, with a weary sigh, grumbled that it wasn’t worth the trouble of trying to bring her back and said something about high emotions running in the family.

“I don’t understand,” Keith said, pleading.

Kolivan’s expression never really changed, but the look he was giving Keith now was the closest thing to uncomfortable Keith could possibly imagine on his features.

“You should ask your mother,” he said.

* * *

 

Today’s to-do list was involved and daunting. Some planets in the Kurea Quadrant were under siege by wayward Zarkon loyalists. That needed to be taken care of immediately. After that maybe they would be lucky enough to make time for the conference call between the planets of System 40-R-5 that had been first requested phoebs ago. In the afternoon, someone was going to have to search the remains of the conflict in the Xol Asteroid Belt, and it looked like that was probably going to fall on Shiro’s shoulders too, in addition to the reports he’d have to make about it afterwards. He’d also have to talk with Lotor about trade routes at some point, but maybe he could squeeze that in before tonight’s dinner with a number of prestigious Coalition government leaders. Oh, right, and there was the public apology for that gaffe involving Lance and Hunk and that ancient traditional pubic hair trimmer on Ellorak. 

Needless to say, it was a busy day for Shiro, and he was not in the mood for seven-foot-one of bristling purple alien mother to kick in his door as he had just fixed the last piece of his Paladin armor on his body.

Shiro had seen Krolia before, once or twice, over a transmission screen. He didn’t think he would ever forget the way Keith had smiled and looked down, soft and gentle on the other side of the universe, as he’d said in a voice so quietly pleased that it broke Shiro’s heart, “Everyone, this is my mom.” That image was seared into his head, accompanied by the first glimpses of a Galra woman to whom Shiro felt he owed his all. She looked strikingly like Keith, from the dark hair to the perfect nose to the big, thick-lashed eyes, so of course Shiro’s first thought about her was that she was absolutely beautiful, and second was that he would forever be indebted to her, because she had created the most precious thing in his life.

He had not imagined that he would ever be in a position where she was bearing down on him in his bedroom, looking like she was about to dismember him with her bare hands.

He didn’t even manage a greeting before she was spitting, “Is this a joke?”

For all Shiro thought his heart might go into arrest right then and there, his survival instincts kicked in, and he managed to take a deep breath and put on what he hoped was an appeasing expression.

“I’m sorry, ma’am?” he managed, taking a few steps back out of her reach. He found himself with his back against the wall. “I’m not sure I know what you’re talking about.”

But Krolia kept coming, and kept coming, and kept coming, until she was immediately in his face. Shiro did not like that at all. She carried with her all the same burning intensity as her son, the solar flares, the wildfire moods. Shiro was already well aware that Keith could kick his ass if he wanted to, but Krolia, built from the same genetic material, cut from the same cloth, had several solid inches on Shiro and could undoubtedly snap his spine one-handed.

“You know what this is about,” she said, although Shiro was left mentally guessing until she elaborated with, “Your  _ gifts _ .” The way she spat the word “gifts” gave Shiro the impression that she wasn’t saying “gifts” at all but something more along the lines of “maggots” or “elephant shit” or “old gym sneakers”.

Shiro’s stomach dropped.

This was somehow worse than the worst-case scenario he’d envisioned, and he had envisioned many. It was phoebs ago now that Lotor had made an off-hand suggestion about traditional Galra courting practices and mentioned the existence of some gifts with romantic overtones that could be interpreted as confessions of love. Shiro had sat on the idea for a long time, contemplated the ifs and the hows. Now that things seemed optimistic for the state of the universe, it was maybe finally the time to give Keith the attention he had wanted to shower on him since before the beginning. And rather than cornering him and forcing him into a situation that made him uncomfortable, Shiro could send him small but meaningful things from afar, and Keith could respond to them on his own schedule, in whatever way he found convenient.

Clearly, they had not been well-received.

In Shiro’s mind, he had already long been setting himself up for rejection, from long before he decided to embark on this particularly ill-fated journey of offerings. But he’d expected it to come differently. Maybe a quiet message from Keith that he didn’t feel the same, or no word from him at all, avoiding the pain of a confrontation, allowing the matter to die quietly between them. The last thing he had expected _Keith’s_ _mother herself_ to come and reject him on Keith’s behalf. Especially not so angrily.

“I’m sorry if I upset him,” Shiro said, holding up his hands in an effort to placate. He’d deal with the angry alien on his hands first, and then let the heartbreak set in later. Shiro still had priorities.

“Don’t apologize to me,” Krolia snapped. “Apologize to  _ him _ .”

Shiro couldn’t possibly imagine why Keith would want him to say anything to his face after all this. Surely Keith was as mortified as Shiro was, if for an opposite reason. Maybe it had never crossed Keith’s mind before that Shiro might feel this way about him, and the shock had given to anger, and the anger had inspired Mom’s intervention. Perhaps this was just a loving mother’s way of making up for lost years of helicopter parenting, but whether it was to console either her or Keith, he would apologize.

Guilt for making Keith uncomfortable tightened around his windpipe like a noose.

“Yes,” Shiro agreed. “I’ll do that.” He paused to take a deep breath. “I didn’t think he’d be  _ this _ upset about it, but I guess he really did never see me that way, and I’m sorry for presuming.”  

This statement did not seem to have the anger-alleviating property that Shiro had expected.

“Why  _ would _ you presume that?” Krolia asked. Angry, she sounded like Keith, rough and aflame. “Can you explain to me why you’re soliciting my son for a one night stand?”

The words took the air out of Shiro like a punch to the solar plexus.

“What? I didn’t—…,” he said, confusion and mortification blooming as a bright and hot thing on his face. And then, spilling from his mouth like rainwater overflowing a dam, “I don’t just want to sleep with him. I love him.”

This halted the both of them in their tracks. Krolia’s eyes widened, and Shiro could feel his own shock that he had said that aloud, to Keith’s  _ mother _ of all people, manifesting on his own face.

“ _ Love _ him?” Krolia echoed. “Then why did you give him  _ this _ ?”

On the word “this” she turned towards the bedside table and slammed the small stone on its surface. Shiro shuddered at the sight of it. He’d spent three days poking around one of the moons of Hiu looking for that rock, but its unusual shape and texture was only produced after some native fauna’s yearly skin shedding. The layer of gel that emerged once their skin fell off was the only thing acidic enough to shape a rock like that. He’d poked around more dead, flaky animal skin than he ever wants to think about to pick that thing up.

“That’s the rock I got him,” Shiro said, still feeling breathless. “You’re supposed to use it to confess your love.”  

Krolia’s eyes went instantly wide. She rocked back on her heels, her eyebrows hitched up towards her hairline.

“Love?” she said incredulously. Then she looked him up and down, eyes narrowed, as though searching him physically for the puzzle piece that would make the big picture work. “Shiro. Who told you that?”

As the reality of the situation began to dawn on Shiro, his brows creased in thought. “Lotor did.”

Admittedly it had been Shiro who had asked Lotor. He’d tried to keep the conversation hypothetical, subtle, but within twenty words Lotor had deducted what, or  _ who _ , the problem at hand was and what Shiro wanted to do about it. He’d seemed more than happy to help Shiro out, advising him on the best kinds of gifts and where to find them, how to go about sending them and what the significance of each was to the Galra.

Krolia frowned. “And the ko flowers? And the balgusfruit?”

“Yeah,” Shiro said slowly. “Lotor told me about those too.”

Suddenly, Krolia looked the image of a fighting cat. She turned towards the door. “I’ll kill him.”

“Wait!” Shiro said, lunging and grabbing her by the elbow.

She stopped and for a second Shiro thought maybe her full anger had returned, that she was going to murder him and then go on a rampage through the Castle-ship and kill every living thing in her path, last hope of the universe be damned. Her anger looked so much like Keith’s, in her eyebrows and her mouth, that Shiro was momentarily knocked out of balance by it.

“Tell me what I did wrong,” he said.

“Fine,” she answered.

Krolia went back to the table and picked the rock up, and then held it up for Shiro to see.

“This is not a gift of love,” she said. “At best, this could be interpreted as you crassly propositioning my son for a bout of casual sex.”

Shiro’s stomach lurched.

“Whoa,” he said. “Oh my god.” He took a deep breath but found himself struggling. “That wasn’t what I meant at all.”

Krolia eyed him again, and it felt like facing down a full fleet of Galra instead of just one very angry mother.

“I wasn’t,” Shiro tried. “I didn’t mean to. That wasn’t what I meant. I promise, I thought it was something else.”

Shiro’s panicked admissions sputtered out, and left silence and judgement in their wake. He both wished she would speak and was terrified of what she’d say, and he found himself holding his breath.

It was a shame, Shiro thought, that the Garrison didn’t offer Wooing Extraterrestrials 101. School had prepared him for a lot of things out here. His self-defense classes for the Galra fighting ring, his rogue projectile cluster training for rogue projectile clusters, his survival briefings for long, empty days and nights aboard a small fighter craft without food, water, or a backup air supply. There were a number of things he’d had to take a crash course in once he got out here though, some of the most notable being piloting a giant lion robot and leading a resistance against a near-universal empire. But right now, more than anything, he would’ve given his other arm for a copy of  _ Winning Over Your Galra Crush and Impressing his Mom For Dummies _ .

“You’re very lucky, Takashi Shirogane,” Krolia said finally. “You’re lucky that I believe you, and you’re lucky that Keith has no idea.”

This, at least, was a reprieve from the constant stress he’d been feeling for some minutes now. At least,  _ at least _ , Keith didn’t think that Shiro had become some sleazy fuckboy, eager to get into his pants and nothing else. At least Keith wasn’t sitting on the Blade of Marmora base right now with Shiro’s gifts spread before him, wondering how long Shiro had only stuck around with him because he wanted to tap that cute ass.

(And while Keith did in fact have a cute ass, that was far from the only reason Shiro wanted him. Even if Keith’s ass was flat or saggy Shiro would still want to spend the rest of his life with him, he was certain.)

“You love him, you said?” Krolia asked.

Shiro, still trying to figure out how to express himself to this incredibly intimidating woman, nodded. This was apparently the right answer, because Krolia cracked the first hint of a smile he had ever seen on her. A detached part of his mind wanted him to thank her for it, because it was the same one that she had passed down to her breathtaking son.

“That’s a relief,” she said with a bark of dry laughter. “I was worried that I’d have to spend the next deca-phoeb consoling him about how that the man he’s been pining after only wants to bed him.”

Just when Shiro had thought his heart had stopped in his chest enough times for one day, it did it once more.

“Pining after?” Shiro asked.

Krolia’s glance was unamused. “Don’t tell me you didn’t notice. I’ve only known him for a few phoebs and it’s painfully obvious.”

Shiro had to take a split second to dismiss the possibility that he was asleep and his subconscious was treating him to a roller coaster. Surely Keith’s own mother, of all people, would be telling him the truth about this, even if she’d only known Keith for a little while. It wasn’t that Shiro hadn’t picked up on the signals, as mixed as they were. But convincing himself that it was true was another matter entirely.

“Don’t believe me?” she asked. “You were going to confess to him anyway. Let’s give the real thing a try.”

Here she turned towards the door and began to walk away, leaving Shiro gaping after her. When she reached the doorway, she paused, and glanced at him over her shoulder.

“Cancel your plans for today, Black Paladin,” Krolia said. “You’re coming with me.”

* * *

 

After the brief uproar, things seemed awfully quiet around the base. Once his mom had disappeared past the solar flares, Keith had spent a bulk of the day yesterday trying to convince anyone to explain the significance of the fruit to him, but the longest response he’d gotten was a laugh and a, “I’m not touching that one!” This left him to sit in the galley alone, peeling balgusfruit skins away from the juicy green pulp with his knife.

Today he was at it again. It would make a decent breakfast, and if Shiro had given them to him, he would eat them until he was sick, even if the circumstances were mysteriously upsetting to his mother and Kolivan. He would feel terrible wasting even one, and Kolivan’s warning about them going bad rung in his ears as his fingers went sticky.

He was interrupted by an announcement of an approaching ship. It wasn’t like the Blade of Marmora was expecting any guests today, so there was really only one person who that could be. Someone who  _ very hopefully _ had some answers for him.

Without cleaning up the mess of fruit skins he had left on the table, Keith jumped up and made his way to the hangar, hoping to intercept his mother before she could escape again. But he was surprised when he entered the room and heard her talking. When a second voice replied, he halted in his tracks.

“I hope this works,” an all-too-familiar voice was saying.

Why was Shiro  _ here _ ? Keith’s breath caught in his throat.

“You being upfront about your feelings would’ve worked,” his mother replied. “But at this point, I think this is the only thing you can do to redeem yourself in the eyes of the others.”

Shiro and Krolia entered Keith’s line of sight then. There was a cloth-wrapped something tucked into Shiro’s arms against his chest. He spotted Keith at the same time that Keith spotted him.

“Oh, Keith,” he said, and under his calm voice laid some thread of worrying tension. He looked uncharacteristically flustered. It was a good look on him, Keith’s brain decided absently. Flushed cheeks and wide eyes made Shiro even cuter than he normally was.

“Shiro?” Keith said, and glanced between him and his mother. “Mom? What’s going on?”

“Shiro has something for you,” Krolia said, and placing a hand between Shiro’s shoulder blades she gave him a hearty shove, sending him stumbling in Keith’s direction. With this done and without another glance at either of them, she strode past them towards the door.

Keith barely noticed. He only had eyes for Shiro and the mysterious thing cradled against his chest.

“What’s going on?” Keith repeated. This was better than asking his mother. He could get straight to the root of the problem here. “Everyone’s been acting weird since you sent me that rock. Which, uh, thank you, by the way. I guess.”

Keith couldn’t immediately tell if Shiro really did pinken at the mention of the rock or if it was a trick of the light, but if he did he shook it off quickly as he squared his shoulders and came closer towards Keith. When they were face-to-face, he slowed to a stop.

“Yeah, about that,” Shiro said, his expression unreadable, and then busied himself with unwrapping the cloth that bundled the thing in his arms. “I want you to have this.”

“This?” Keith repeated, all of his questions still unanswered. “Shiro, what—”

The cloth fell away little by little, revealing an object shaped like an unshelled pistachio but sized like a beach ball, covered in what appeared to be thick periwinkle fur that swayed in air currents imperceptible to Keith’s skin. It was mesmerizing to watch, and Keith had to fight the urge to bury his hands into the fluff. But more than that, his puzzlement was going to quickly transform into irritation if he didn’t get the answers he needed. Just as he was about to repeat his questions, Shiro drew even closer and made to hand the thing over to Keith.

Instinctively Keith’s arms came up to receive it. Mystery object or no, Keith would always take anything that Shiro gave him.

“Uh, thanks,” Keith said, tenderly shifting the thing’s weight until it rested comfortable in the crooks of his elbows. It was heavy. “What is it?”

“It’s a seed,” Shiro said, his voice soft, “from a tree that originally grew on Daibazaal. If you accept my feelings we’re supposed to go bury it somewhere together.”

Keith looked up from the bluish-purple tinged fuzz, and felt his lungs cease to function when he saw how close Shiro was standing over him. “Your feelings?”

“Yeah,” Shiro said. “My feelings for you.”

Behind him, there was a sound which Keith had learned was the wolf whistle of the Galra. Face heating, Keith swiveled to see half the base crowded in the doorway, watching with wide eyes and big smiles, jostling each other for a better view.

“Let me translate this for you,” said Ilun from there. “This is a gift Galra bestow on their beloved, to confess their romantic desires.”

If Keith thought his face was warm before, now it was burning, and the heat had spread down through his entire body. He turned back to look at Shiro, and found that Shiro’s eyes were downturned as though he couldn’t look at Keith directly, which was a blessing because Keith found that he couldn’t look at Shiro very well either.

“Your…romantic feelings,” Keith said, trying to get a grasp on the concept. He found that he couldn’t. “So, all of these gifts….”

Keith had thought he was speaking quietly, just for the two of them, but when the crowd in the doorway burst out laughing he realized how wrong he was. Shiro, to match the laughter, turned even pinker.

“Not  _ all _ the gifts!” someone called out from behind him.

“There was a misunderstanding,” Shiro said quickly. “It doesn’t mean anything. This one is the only one that matters.”

Those behind him laughed again, but Keith was beginning to tune them out. Right now the only thing worth his attention was that Shiro was looking into his eyes, leaning close to him. It was hard to register anything else when Shiro was this close. When Keith could feel his body heat, when he could make out the individual eyelashes that lined his beautiful eyes. Keith’s gaze accidentally flickered down to Shiro’s lips, just because they always looked delectable and Keith just wanted to double check that they did right now, too. Of course they did. Just like every other part of Shiro.

Did Shiro really…feel that way? About  _ him _ ?

“So?” Shiro asked in a whisper. “Want to go plant this?”

It wasn’t even a question.

“ _ Please _ ,” Keith breathed, and because he was never very good at roping in his impulses, he rose to his toes and brushed his mouth against Shiro’s.

It was brief, but when he dropped back to his heels against he’d barely settled before Shiro’s hand was cupping his face and leaning in for a second. That second, a languid, blooming thing, then became a third. Keith dropped the seed to the ground so that it wasn’t awkwardly squished between them and reached up to wrap his arms around Shiro’s neck before diving back in.

In a few moments they would stop, not because they’d gotten their fill but because Keith felt the insatiable urge to look into Shiro’s calm and affectionate eyes. And while they stood there, with Keith’s arms slung around Shiro’s neck and Shiro’s about Keith’s waist, both smiling gently with their foreheads pressed against each other, if Shiro murmured, “Your mom is absolutely terrifying,” then that was just between the two of them.

* * *

 

On the other side of the video screen, Lance’s eyes were streaming tears.

“Wait—,” he managed to gasp around his unrelenting laughter. “You’re telling me that Shiro  _ publicly _ sent Keith a message that was the Galra equivalent of, ‘Want sum fuk?’”

Matt was also howling. He stopped pounding his fist against the ground long enough to say, “It’s worse than that, dude! He implied that Keith was nothing to him but an easy lay— _ in front of his mom _ !”

“Don’t listen to them, baby,” Keith said, glaring daggers, his arm protective around Shiro’s waist. “I loved your gifts.”

Allura, who appeared to be biting the inside of her cheek to keep it together as she listened to Shiro’s story, addressed him next. “And that’s why you disappeared from the Castle-ship?”

“Yeah,” Shiro said, and tried not to look too sheepish as he gave Keith’s shoulder a squeeze. “I’ll try to be back tomorrow or the next day.”

“Take your time dude!” Lance said, still laughing. “Wouldn’t want Keith to think this was a hit it and quit it situation!”

Keith tried to force a glower onto his face but the fact of the matter was that he was tucked under Shiro’s very warm arm and it was terribly difficult to be in a bad mood when that was the case. Lance could make fun, but Keith was boarding a ship this afternoon to fly to a nearby planet scoped out for its excellent Galra tree-growing conditions.

When the video transmission ended, Keith turned towards Shiro, chin tilted up invitingly. Shiro placed a kiss against his lips, and as he did, Keith felt Shiro slip something familiar into his hand.

“What?” he asked. When he raised his hand, in his palm sat a small, smooth stone.

Shiro gave him a wink. “DTF?”

If it was Shiro, of course Keith was. But instead of telling him that he snorted to hide his laugh, playfully punched Shiro in the shoulder, and pocketed the stone.

“Come on. Let’s go plant a tree.”

**Author's Note:**

> Lotor: Oh that’s right. It’s _Altean_ culture in which the ko flower is a sign of everlasting love. My bad.
> 
>  
> 
> [tumblr](http://epiproctan.tumblr.com)


End file.
